


Pay. Attention.

by Paizu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow jobs are nice, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paizu/pseuds/Paizu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles keeps catching glances of Derek's tattoo, and now getting more than a glance is all that he can think about.</p>
<p> <br/>It's not like it's an obsession or anything. Stiles doesn't <i>do</i> obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pay. Attention.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JadeIndigo73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeIndigo73/gifts).



Stiles can trace back to the very second that he first saw it.

  
It had been one of those ridiculous 'time slowed down and all that existed were the muscles of his back and the dark, inky lines stretched across his skin' kind of things. Like, hardcore Disney princess moment.  
  
Hell,  he might as well have been clutching his chest and swooning with the way his heart beat had ratcheted up. All he needed was the crown. And the ruffles.  
  
If. You know. The magical kingdom was filled with half-naked were-men that had severe abusive tendencies.  
  
The part that killed him though was that he hadn't had the time to really look, to take in the glimpse of swirling black that sat between Derek's shoulder blades. But that glimpse - it had been enough to take over his every waking moment. It started as images and thoughts - memories of how his skin had stretched the ink to where the lines were distorted and uneven, how the muscles of Derek's back had quivered underneath it as he settled back into himself. But images and memories had turned into dreams, which turned into long mulling philosophies in his mind which turned into tracing patterns with his fingers - and when he looked down to his math notes and found them clustered and overtaken with sketches of Derek's tattoo, he knew something had to give.  
  
So Stiles. . . Well, he researched. It wasn’t like an _obsession_ or anything like that. He didn’t do obsession. Unless you were counting well-validated ones like what a healthy adult male should eat on a daily basis or online video games or anything and everything supernatural because suddenly your best friend is a freaky teenage werewolf or. . . or _tattoos._  
  
Turns out there were like, a million different symbolisms of the triskelion, from Celtic celestial worlds to the concepts of motion and evolution and family. The one that really stuck with him though was the lunar cycles – It didn’t’ really seem like a good Derek reasoning, but hello. Werewolf? Moon? Anybody?  
  
And as much as knowing all that stuff about the symbol on Derek’s back was cool and all – it really didn’t help. Because seeing those crappy pixels on the screen of his laptop just made him want to see the real thing again – which just started the daydreaming all over again, and really it was just a vicious cycle and really, maybe if he just got to see it again, it wouldn’t be so bad-  
  
Except it really, really was.  
  
Because then it became a _thing._

Turns out it’s really hard to be subtle when you’re surrounded by emotion-scenting super-hearing freaks of nature that know exactly what was going on when you tell them that they need to strip for the sake of humanity.

  
If only it was that easy. No, Stiles had to create entire _situations_ to make it happen.  
  
A spilled drink that made his life flash before his eyes? Check. Accidentally catching fabric on a sharp edge? Check. Keys falling to the bottom of the pool? Double check. The only thing better about that back without a shirt on was that back without a shirt on coming out of _water_.  
  
The worst part was that it was getting harder and harder to pretend he was the only one who knew what was going on, here.  
  
They were in the burnt out shell of Derek's living room and on Stile's fourth soda disaster when the other man's patience finally snapped.  
  
“Damn it, Stiles,” He growled, and Stiles was distracted by the flurry of movement that was Derek stripping off his shirt like it had personally offended him. Which, it was Stiles that had taken part of the offending part and he would be a lot more worried about that if Derek growling and moving into his space hadn't become such an enticing thing.  
  
The way his breath caught when he hit the wall behind him after a little scuffle and stumble, the heat of Derek's body looming over him, should probably have dinged some pretty serious stolkholm syndrome worries. The other man's hand was pressing against his chest, right over his rabbiting heart. As if he needed the physical touch to know how it was trying to escape.  
  
“Okay, hi. That was definitely my fault, my mistake, maybe we can do a little less with the naked mud wrestling-”  
  
“What are you trying to do, Stiles.” Derek ground out, and Stiles wondered anxiously if he could feel the shiver of goosebumps that traveled through his body at the feel of his breath right against his face. You would think he would get used to that part with how much it happened, but it got him every. Time.  
  
“Just- uh, you know- Clumsy teenage boy things, shooting up in height and all so I've got those fumbling feet things going on, you know how it is, you probably grew like a giraffe-”  
  
“ _Stiles._ ”  
  
Stiles took a moment to re-assimilate, to tear his attention away from the hard thigh pressing against his, the line of heat that was Derek's arm across his chest, the way his hand had clenched around the fabric of his shirt, how close their faces were, the tension that Stiles liked to think was the wolf waiting just below the surface-  
  
“I needed to see it,” he blurt out, and the furrowing of Derek's eyebrows made him bite his bottom lip, fighting the stream that threatened to follow. Derek's grip went tight, and Stiles' breath whooshed out of him completely as the fabric of his shirt tucked up around him, straining on the shoulders. “It's just- You heal so fast, and natural healing pushes foreign objects out of your body, so the ink shouldn't have set and I wanted to know how you managed, and if it felt different, or ta-ta-” Stiles swallowed down his words in effort of self-preservation, just barely keeping in that he wanted to stare for hours, to run his tongue along the lines of black, to see if it tasted different against his skin, if it was just sweat and skin and Derek or if he could taste the tattoo under his lips.  
  
“It was just research,” he finished weakly, closing his eyes in mortification.  
  
He felt a huff of breath against his lips, and then Derek pulled away from him completely, and Stiles had to cartwheel his arms to keep himself from pitching forward. When he opened his eyes and looked for the other man he was halfway across the room, facing away from him, and Stiles' frantic monologue died on his lips before it could fill the room.  
  
Derek was standing still, his back on full display to Stiles, and he wasn't looking in his direction he was just- He rolled his shoulders a little, his head tilting slightly in Stiles' direction, and Stiles could feel his reality tunneling in on the sight in front of him.  
  
The light from the the boarded windows lanced across Derek's naked back in patches, lighting the black sporadically and creating patterns that Stiles just _needed_ to touch. He had followed Derek across the room before he even had time to stop and think, his hand hovering over the expanse of skin in front of him. He froze just above the tattoo painted across the other man's back, the realization of what he was doing catching up to him.  
  
“The ink is infused with wolfsbane.” Derek's voice filled the empty room, bouncing off the jagged walls and filtering into silence again.  
  
“That- wouldn't kill you?” Stiles whispered back, incapable of lifting his voice and breaking whatever was going on here. He let his fingertips rest on the bottom swirl of the triskelion, and he could feel the deep breath that Derek took, but there was no sound from his lips. His hand was shaking as he slowly slid it up, tracing along the edge of the dark shape.  
  
Derek shakes his head, doesn't explain more than that, and it's frustrating and _infuriating_ , because this is what he always does; one word answers that don't answer _anything_ , that just make Stiles more curious, more desperate to find answers that he can't google, can't find in a library. It's like Derek is this puzzle box of answers he won't ever have any hope of opening. He let his hand splay out against his back, his hands leeching heat of the other man as he traced and rubbed over the ink – The edges were ever so slightly raised from his skin, and Stiles ran trembling hands all along the edges, tracing it completely several times before Derek was shifting, pulling away from Stiles' touch and Stiles couldn't fight the whine that fell out of his lips at the loss.  
  
His cheeks were stained with red when the other man turned around, and he came back to himself with a rush as those intense eyes landed on him. He felt like his whole body was on an edge, he was trembling and breathy, his head light like he had been holding his breath underwater – It was ridiculous that he was so affected, and he wanted to protect himself, to pull away and find some excuse or reason, but then Derek was filling his vision, and there were dry lips pressing against his own.  
  
His brain short-circuited on a gasp, and then it was all lips and tongues and _Derek Hale was kissing him._  
  
“Mmph!” Stiles flailed, and he jerked back, biting his tongue in the process. Derek let him go, his face dark and pulled tight, the look in his eyes setting Stiles' heart off like a drum. He looked like he wanted to devour Stiles, and this TOTALLY wasn't what Stiles had been gunning for, but his stomach was turning and flipping at the possibility, and he was so so so not noticing how tight his pants were or how fast his breath was coming and - “Oh god, oh god, ohgod, I just wanted to see your tattoo, I wan't- You totally don't want- Oh fuck, did I like, hit some magic Alpha werewolf button? Totally didn't mean to, you know what. I can go. I can go and we can totally just pretend none of this even-”  
  
“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek brought up a hand and curled it possessively around the back of Stiles' neck and suddenly they were pressed together, teeth clashing before Derek gentled the movement and sucked Stiles' bottom lip in slowly, his teeth scraping lightly before he dived back in to _claim_ his mouth.  
  
Stiles whimpered, heat rushing to every inch of his skin, and he curled into Derek instinctively, his fingers digging into Derek's biceps as the other man let a heavy hand fall and curl around his hip. He twitched his hips forward helplessly into the grip, and they both broke apart with a gasp, hazy eyes meeting and their breath mingling.  
  
Derek was breathing hard, and his grip was on the far side of too tight, and it hit Stiles like a brick that Derek _wanted_ him.  
  
And all the time he had spent watching and learning and wanting – All the times he had covered up his own need with the excuse of research and curiosity, how Derek had just smirked and huffed and played along like Stiles was the sneakiest kid around. He re-ran it in his head, imagined it from the other side, imagined how Derek must have been watching him back, burning into the back of his head as he had retreated. All that time and-  
  
“Hey,” Stiles jolted back to the moment, jerking his eyes up to Derek's. There was a guarded and stiff set to his jaw that melted as soon as their gaze met, and Stiles felt like he was floating as Derek leaned back down, placed wet open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, “Pay attention,” He mumbled into the skin of Stiles' throat, and he couldn't fight the slightly hysteric giggle that came in response.  
  
“Oh, I'm paying attention. I'm paying so much attention, oh my god. It's just usually things that aren't real stop by now, and if we're arguing the fact, this seems pretty unrealistic to me and it kinda came out of nowhere and I wasn't really expecting- _Ohmygod_ -”  
  
Derek chuckled darkly against him, and the smirk he leveled up at him was nearly as mind-blowing as the hand that was cupping the front of his jeans.  
  
“You're- You-” Derek nipped at his collar bone, tightening his fingers around Stiles and his words trailed into a keening noise that would be seriously embarrassing when he wasn't getting groped by _Derek Fucking Hale._

  
His hips were shifting up every few seconds, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was flat out getting his first hand job and he was totally still in his pants and rutting up against a guy he would have sworn half an hour ago would have loved to kill him before kiss him, but then they were doing that again - the kissing part - and by the time Derek let up to give him a little air he was so out of breath that his head was fuzzy and he legit thought he might pass out.  
  
“Ok.” He said, blinking several times as Derek pulled back slightly and just _smirked_ at him like the asshole that he was. “Ok, yeah,” Stiles’ voice was breathy and hitting octaves he would not admit to later, but the look that grew on Derek’s face as Stiles pushed trembling hands down to his button and shimmied his way out of his jeans was totally worth it. Derek’s hands moved to Stiles’ hips to let the fabric creep down, and Stiles stood stock still with his hands curled in the denim for several minutes, eyes wide as he stared in front of him.  
  
He could feel the red creeping into his cheeks, chasing the bravado away as Derek stood like a statue, eyes just slightly turned down to take in the view of Stiles standing in his boxers. And fuck, Derek had been fucking with him. Of course he didn’t want to take this any farther, or be Stiles’ first experience in a crazy sexual romp against a wall, and he should never have pulled his pants down, he was an idiot-  
  
His thoughts stuttered to a stop as Derek groaned, and he squeaked in terror as the other man was suddenly so much closer, huge hands traveling up and down his sides, pushing his shirt up so it caught under his armpits before dropping again to cover the skin of his abs and sides before they snuck under the waistband of his boxer and Stiles’ brain straight out went offline as Derek whispered ‘Stiles’ roughly into his skin before laying his forehead on Stiles’ shoulder, looking down as he slowly slid the fabric down until Stiles was visible in all his glory, the fabric stretching across his thighs.  
  
Stiles whimpered as they stood there, his entire body a trembling as he instinctively let his legs drop a little farther apart, drinking in how Derek tensed against him, a long hot line of coiled energy. And then he -  
He didn’t move. He just stayed there, leaning on stiles and looking down, and the embarrassment and anxiety were getting to Stiles, coiling in his belly, and even though he was aroused like he’d never been before, like _ever_ , he kind of wanted to just sink into the wall behind him and dissapear.  
  
“You’re really bad at this, dude,” He whined, clunking his head back against the wall behind him. “Because, I mean, this is nice and all but I kind of feel like some weird display and it’s totally a compliment if you think it’s pretty, but if you’re just gonna keep staring I think- _Oh, god_ , ok, that’s totally cool too, we can keep going in this direction are you going to - _oh_.”  
  
And then Stiles was entirely too occupied with trying not to bite through his lip, because Derek had just kind of slunk down at his words, his hands dragging on Stiles’ skin as he slid down to his knees and situated himself right up against Stiles until he got a little mouthful of the skin right at the vee of his hips. And,  yeah. Words really didn’t work out very well when his arousal was sitting against Derek’s cheek, thrills of pleasure shooting up his spine as Derek’s little nips and sucks caused the rough scratch of hair to rub against it.    
  
Stiles thinks that he might actually have seen sparks in his vision when Derek finally looked up to meet his eyes, which is _so_ fairy tale princess that Stiles would never be admitting it to _anyone_ , and then Derek husked out, “Still paying attention?” and he thinks that even if someone did know, it would be _totally_ understandable.  
  
Especially because the next thing that Derek did was to lean forward and wrap his mouth mouth around Stiles’ cock. Stiles’ head hit the wall behind him with a loud ‘thunk’, and he’s really really not ashamed of the noises he makes, then, because Derek Hale. Sucking his cock. Sucking his cock and growling at him.  
  
Stiles jerked his head down, startling and bucking his hips a little when he found Derek staring back up at him angrily, lips stretched wide and obscene around him. He could practically hear the ‘You’re not paying attention’ in his gaze, and he whimpered as Derek dug his fingers in harsh on his hips and then he was moving, and Stiles was pretty sure he’d never felt anything better in his life.  
  
Mind-blowing. That was good word for it. Totally fucking mind-blowing, so much that Stiles could say anything, couldn’t think anything at all as he just stared down with gapped lips and flushed cheeks. Watching - seeing Derek as he sucked Stiles down - it was terrifyingly hot, and Stiles was going to come way, way, too soon.  
  
“D-Derek, I’m-” He moaned out, his hands flying down to find something, anything, to hold onto. His nails ended up scraping against his shoulders, and when all Derek did was hum and take Stiles down deeper, he couldn’t help but curl forward over Derek, hands finding purchase along his back. He gasped in a stuttering breath, seeing the opportunity - He sunk his nails in deep over the black tattoo, keening helplessly as he dragged them upwards, watching angry red marks follow in their wake, breaking up the design with jagged lines.  
  
He could feel the groan that worked out of Derek, the vibration moving all along his length, and then Derek was dipping forward and he actually felt himself hit the back of his throat, and then Derek was swallowing, and that was all Stiles could take. His knees buckled, his vision blacking out as he came, and he would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for one of Derek’s hands holding hot a heavy against his stomach, pinning him to the wall as he milked him dry, sucking and nuzzling at him until Stiles was overstimulated and trembling in his grip.  
  
“ _God_ ,” Stiles mumbled weakly when Derek finally pulled off him, shutting his eyes tightly, because if he watched Derek’s hand come up to clean the side of his mouth he was actually going to die. Just fall over right here - which still seemed like a pretty good possibility if the other man decided to stop holding him up - and die. Of course, with his eyes closed he really just had the freedom to replay the last few minutes, to see his cock slowly sinking past Derek’s lips, to feel the slight scratch of stubble on the inside of his thigh, to-  
  
“You’re _infuriating_.” Derek growled, his breath huffing against Stiles’ lips, and he snapped his eyes open to find Derek inches from his face. “You keep going somewhere else. What do I have to do to make you pay. Attention.” And he was kissing him again, and Stiles groaned weakly - He could taste himself on Derek’s tongue, and that shouldn’t be as hot as it was, but it _was_ , and he wiggled wantonly against the hard line that was Derek’s body, holding onto his shoulders like they were a life line. He was getting light-headed again - the breathing while kissing thing made sense, but actually implementing it? - when Derek shifted, and Stiles could feel the hot line of his cock sitting heavy against his hip. He had to pull back from the kiss, bring in great lungfuls of air - because actually _feeling_ how he affected the older boy was -  
  
“I am so paying attention right now,” He just about whimpered, and then he was a flurry of movement, because that was _Derek’s cock_ against his hip, and he was really ready to see it, to feel it, to- Derek’s hand interrupted his fumbling movements at his button, and by now Stiles was so past the ‘maybe he won’t let me’ mindset, and so he just wiggled and whined, “ _Derek_ ,” at the interruption. Derek chuckled, and he just barely managed a grumpy frown before Derek was nipping at his lips again as he popped the button, and then both their fingers were on him, and Stiles had to pull away to look down at Derek pulling his cock through the vee of his jeans.  
  
“So, _so_ paying attention,” He whispered as Derek curled his hand around Stiles’, and then they were jacking him off together, and Derek was whispering ‘ _Stiles_ ’ into his ear, his hips pushing forward into their grip like he couldn’t keep them still, and that was altogether intoxicating.  
  
Stiles couldn’t stop staring - at how their hands wound together, how the tip of Derek’s penis would dissapear into their hands and then peek forward, red and glistening with pre-come, and he groaned loudly as Derek cursed and burrowed his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck. His hips started snapping forward into their combined grip, and Stiles couldn’t fight the little whine when he felt the cool brush of teeth against the muscle in his neck and his dick gave it’s own little futile twitch as Derek bit down, just light enough not to break the skin.  
  
And Stiles couldn’t fight the urge to lift his chin, give everything up to the other man, and his whole body shivered with arousal as Derek growled loudly, his body tensing and his nails digging in hard on Stiles’ hips, and Stiles should probably be a little more worried with how his shoulders were widening, how he could feel the shift of Derek’s face, how if he had lifted his head, Derek’s eyes would probably be red and primal - but then Derek was coming, and he could feel the hot splashes of come on his stomach and it was almost like an after-shock of his own followed Derek’s orgasm.  
  
They stood there breathing heavily for several minutes before Derek reluctantly let go of Stiles. He winced as blood rushed to the spot he had been biting all at once, and he shivered as they both slowly found their way to the ground, all tangled and entwined with each other.  
  
“Okay. So I don’t think I was expecting that.” Stiles eventually said, looking down at where he was trailing his fingertips over the edges of Derek’s tattoo again. Derek was leaning into his arms - who would have thought that Derek Hale was an after-sex cuddler? - and mouthing lazily at Stiles’ collarbone. He ‘hmmed’ quietly, grip tightening a little where it was resting on his hip. “I mean, I know I’ve been trying to get to undress for a few weeks now, but I really thought that part would end in dismemberment, not you like, freaking blowing my brains out. Pun intended. Not that I’m upset that-”  
  
“Stiles,” Derek grumped out, sighing heavily against his skin.  
  
“Yup?”  
  
“Just shut up.”


End file.
